


Samhain

by KMDWriterGrl



Category: Criminal Minds, John Carpenter's Halloween
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-21 05:39:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2456792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KMDWriterGrl/pseuds/KMDWriterGrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The BAU is called in after killer Michael Myers escapes from Smith’s Grove Sanitarium and heads for Haddonfield to kill his sister, Laurie Strode. Can the BAU prevent a Halloween night massacre or will the seemingly unstoppable Michael Myers take down the team one by one? </p><p>A Criminal Minds/Halloween crossover ... NOW COMPLETED!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He's Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> AUTHOR’S NOTE: The story takes place during the events of the first “Halloween” movie. The BAU is called in after Michael Myers escapes from Smith’s Grove Sanitarium and heads for Haddonfield to presumably kill his sister, Laurie Strode. Can the BAU prevent a Halloween night massacre or will the seemingly unstoppable Michael Myers take down the team one by one? 
> 
> To sync modern day “Criminal Minds” up with the “Halloween” storyline, I obviously had to take some liberties. The original Halloween murder of Judith Myers takes place in 1963, with the attack on Laurie Strode and her friends taking place 15 years later in 1978. I wanted to use the same events but bring them up to the present day. Using the same time line, Judith Myers was killed in 1999 and Michael Myers escapes to come after his sister Laurie in 2014. 
> 
> I’ve also taken liberties with some of the character detail that was left nebulous or entirely unexplained throughout the Halloween series. (Or which I may somehow have missed either in the originals or the Rob Zombie reboots). Some details may not mesh up exactly with the movies—that’s my attempt to interpret the characters and events of Halloween night my own way. I’m in no way attempting to infringe on John Carpenter or Debra Hill’s storytelling.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own any part of or lay any claim to the “Criminal Minds” or “Halloween” franchises! I just thought it would be fun to create a profile of Michael Myers … this was the result.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The BAU is called to Haddonfield, IL when a homicidal mental patient escapes an asylum and appears to be on his way back to his hometown where he killed his sister 15 years earlier.

“I know holidays aren’t exactly sacred on this job but I was really hoping that this Halloween was going to concern big screen monsters instead of real-life ones,” Emily Prentiss sighed to Dave Rossi as they walked into the BAU sit room. 

“You and me both,” JJ replied, sidling up behind them. “I’d like to actually take Henry trick-or-treating instead of just seeing the pictures of it afterward.”

“You can always ask Hotch if you can sit this one out,” Rossi replied to JJ. “You know he’d understand. You, however--” He pointed playfully at Emily, “—have to forgo a night of Boris Karloff like the rest of us.”

Emily gave him an amused smirk. “I’ll leave Karloff and the gang to the fuddie-duddies like you. I’m thinking more along the lines of Warwick Davis in ‘Leprechaun.’ Maybe Robert Englund in ‘Nightmare on Elm Street.’” She laughed at Rossi’s expression. “What? You have your classic horror films and I have mine!”

JJ shook her head. “After all the violence we see on a daily basis, how can you watch those kinds of movies?”

Emily shrugged. “It’s ridiculously unbelievable. All those Hollywood movies and shows are.” She settled at the table and reached for the plastic witch’s cauldron of candy Reid had placed there earlier in the week. “What have we got?”

“Another ruined holiday,” Derek Morgan grumped, slouching into his seat with a cup of coffee, a Powerbar, and a scowl. “There go my plans for the party I was heading to tonight.”

Emily grinned at the disgruntled look on Morgan’s face. “Aww, did someone get cheated out of some good lovin’?”

JJ choked back a laugh while Rossi outright guffawed. Morgan reached over and tweaked Emily’s ponytail as he replied, “And when was the last time you had some good lovin’ of your own, Little Miss Attitude?”

Hotch, Garcia, and Reid’s entrance saved Emily from answering, though she sent Morgan a dirty look. He returned a wink and focused on Garcia. 

“Sorry to pull you in on what should have been a relatively quiet day,” Hotch said. “I know we have other places we’d like to be on Halloween. However, we have a situation in Illinois that could turn sour if we can’t resolve it quickly.” 

He nodded at Garcia, who clicked the remote at the screen. A photo of a young boy with straw-blonde hair, a pale face, and disconcertingly blank eyes appeared. 

“This is Michael Myers,” Garcia said. “Fifteen years ago, he killed his older sister Judith by stabbing her to death with a butcher’s knife on Halloween night. He was six years old. Last night he was supposed to be transported from the psychiatric hospital in Smith’s Grove to a competency hearing determining whether he should remain permanently locked down with no chance of release. When his doctor and nurse arrived at the hospital, he attacked them, stole their car, and escaped.”

“How can a kid who’s been locked up since age six drive a car?” Morgan asked incredulously.

“It wouldn’t be that hard to do if he’s been observing someone driving him back and forth from competency hearings for 15 years,” Reid (predictably) replied. “The mechanics of driving a vehicle are relatively simple—it’s the interplay with road conditions and other drivers that makes it difficult.”

“So where do they think he’s going?” Emily asked. 

“His doctor, Samuel Loomis, thinks he’s going back to his hometown,” Hotch replied. “Haddonfield. Loomis’ fear is that he’s decided to go after his parents or younger sister on the anniversary of his older sister’s death.”

“Any evidence to corroborate that?” Rossi asked. 

“This,” Garcia replied grimly, switching to the next picture. 

A photo of Myers’ room at the sanitarium filled the screen. It was as blank and expressionless as the six-year-old’s face had been. Scratched on the wall behind the door in enormous letters was the word SISTER. 

“Where is this sister?” Morgan asked. “Can we get her in protective custody?”

“Therein lies the problem,” Garcia reported. “We can’t locate her.”

“YOU, the great and powerful Oz can’t find the missing sister?” Prentiss asked incredulously. 

“She and her parents have been in witness protection for fear of exactly this sort of thing happening. And you know how notoriously tight-lipped those folks are.”

“But if it’s an emergency,” Rossi said, “and this certainly seems to qualify … there have to be ways of getting hold of them.”

“I’m working on it,” Garcia replied. 

“We’re heading to Haddonfield to assist the sheriff’s department in locating and locking down Michael Myers. He killed three guards and an inmate last night and attacked his doctor and nurse. You can be sure there will be more to come. Wheels up in thirty.”

***

The leaves that hadn’t fallen from the trees were a blaze of color. Cornstalks, scarecrows, and pumpkins marched across every yard. Halloween in the mid-west was a beautiful thing, especially to people who lived in the sprawl of Washington DC. The flight had taken slightly less than two hours but it had propelled them into a world that felt surreally beautiful. 

There was a slight smile on Emily’s lips as she watched the sere fields flash by the window of the SUV. Rossi gave her a knowing look. “Still wish you were inside watching monster movies?”

“Considering that our alternative is hunting down a knife-wielding psychopath, yes, I still prefer Warwick Davies in a leprechaun costume and shoes with toe-buckles.” 

Rossi shook his head, amused. “I thought you were a classy lady, Emily Prentiss. I obviously need to reevaluate that assessment.”

“Hey, guys, I’ve been looking over the Myers case file.” Reid leaned forward from the extreme back seat. “He hasn’t spoken a word in 15 years.”

“Are you serious?” Morgan turned from the front seat to look at him. “Not one word?”

“Selective mutism. He has the verbal ability, auditory capacity, and IQ to speak … he’s just chosen not to.”

“Takes a hell of a lot of willpower,” Rossi said, raising an eyebrow. “Did Loomis ever determine what made Myers kill his sister?”

Reid shook his head. “Myers never cooperated with any attempt at therapy. Loomis has never even heard his voice. He’ll sometimes draw in art therapy but nothing recognizable. He’s medication compliant and is in every other way a model patient. But he won’t speak.”

“So why has Loomis made a request to keep him locked away indefinitely? Myers is only good for one murder—well, only one until last night. What would make him take such a drastic step?” Morgan asked.

Reid frowned. “According to Loomis, Michael Myers is pure evil. He describes Myers as having no emotion, no reason, and no conscience. In some of his notes he doesn’t even refer to Myers as ‘him’—he calls him ‘it’ or ‘the thing.’”

“I get the feeling Dr. Loomis is terrified of his patient.” Prentiss drummed her fingers along the seat. “What is it that he sees that no one else has?”

“The parents must have sensed something if they were willing to go into witness protection and change every aspect of their lives rather than encounter their son again,” Hotch put in from the driver’s seat. “They turned him over to the sanitarium when Michael was 7 and apparently never looked back.” 

He turned the SUV into the parking lot of the Haddonfield police station. It was tiny, but so was the town. It was unlikely the citizens of Haddonfield, Illinois needed more than what was currently sitting in front of them—a low, long, one-story brick building with three police cruisers parked outside. 

A crisp, cool wind tickled the backs of their necks as they walked inside. Nearly everyone in the bull pen stopped what they were doing to study the BAU team as they strode in. Only two people moved forward to greet them—the sheriff and a bald, middle-aged man in a khaki trench coat. 

“Sheriff Brackett?” Hotch extended his hand. “I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner with the BAU.” He introduced the rest of the team. Everyone in the bull pen continued to stare until Hackett conspicuously cleared his throat, at which point they went back to work. 

“Sorry for that,” Brackett said with a small shrug. “We don’t normally need to call in federal agents.”

“When it shows up you’ll be glad you did,” replied the man in the coat. He wore an expression of quiet desperation and mingled terror.

“Dr. Loomis? We were hoping you could give us some more information on your patient so we can better predict his movements,” Hotch said.

“I KNOW its movements,” Loomis said impatiently, waving off Hotch’s hand and striding toward the conference room. “It’s coming here! It’s looking for its sister!”

Brackett trailed awkwardly behind Loomis, giving the others an embarrassed half-smile at the other man’s rudeness. “Look, Doctor, I think you ought to give these agents a chance to--”

“To what? Try to pick apart and profile a man so evil that it barely even deserves to be called a man? That thing is on its way here from Smith’s Grove—I saw what it did after it left the sanitarium! It killed a tow-truck driver, stole his clothing, and is headed this way. It will be here in a matter of hours!”

“And where will he go?” Prentiss asked, trying to make her voice both reasonable and soothing. “Give us a place to start.”

“The Myers house, of course. It’ll be looking for its sister.”

“The Myers house has been empty for 15 years,” Brackett said, a hint of impatience creeping into his voice. “No one ever moved in. A local real estate agent bought it and is trying to sell it but it’ll sit on the market as long as people in town remember what happened.”

“Let’s get a patrol over the Myers house,” Hotch said. “The house is symbolic to him, even if it’s empty. Dr. Loomis is right … he’ll at least want to see it.”

“Where is Judith Myers buried?” Morgan asked. 

“The town cemetery,” Brackett replied. 

“He’ll probably go there as well. Make sure you have a patrol out there as well.”

“It’s Halloween, folks!” Brackett protested. “I’m going to have my hands full running herd on the teenagers of this town once the sun sets, not to mention the adults who decide they want to have a little fun of their own. I can’t spare two of my three patrol cars to sit outside the Myers house and the cemetery waiting for someone who may very well not show up!”

“He will show up,” Rossi said. “If he broke out of a mental hospital to come after his sister, he’ll be here tonight. You have to be ready for that. What we need to do is locate her—what did you say her name was?”

“It was …” Brackett thought. “God, it was so long ago I can’t remember. She was so little when it happened … a year old, maybe a bit younger. Eleanor, I think. Eleanor Myers. But like I said, the Myers moved away years ago. No one knows where they are.”

“Michael does,” Loomis said grimly. “That’s why he’s coming home.”

TO BE CONTINUED ...


	2. Memories of the Myers'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The BAU team heads to the Myers house and the cemetery, hoping for some answers and to head off Michael Myers.

Haddonfield was small enough that the team could walk almost anywhere in town from the police station with very little effort. They set out in two teams--Morgan, Hotch, and Brackett headed to the cemetery to Judith Myers’ grave while Rossi, Prentiss and Loomis walked to the Myers’ house. JJ and Reid remained at the police station, setting up the boards regarding Myers and his five most recent victims (three guards, an inmate, and the tow-truck driver killed that morning for his clothing and his car) and interviewing Marion Chambers, the extremely shaken RN who had accompanied Loomis on his drive to Smith’s Grove to transport Myers.

“What do you remember about the murder?” Morgan asked Brackett.

The sheriff seemed more comfortable now that he was out from under Samuel Loomis’s too-intense stare. “Every town has something like this, you know; the tragedy so horrific that everyone remembers it. But it was one hell of a shock when I heard that night that they were bringing in a six-year-old for Judith Myers’ murder.”

“Where were you when it happened?” Hotch asked. His tone was subtly different from the one he normally used with the team; it was the confessional “we’re all cops here” tone that put at ease people too uncomfortable to talk about the violence and depravity they’d seen.

“I was right there in the station when I heard about it, just wrapping up my shift. It was my first Halloween as a beat cop and I’d been escorting groups of kids trick-or-treating—they never give rookies anything more strenuous than that on their first year out. I’m damn glad too. I don’t know what the hell I would have done if I’d had to go out to that house.”

“The people who did go,” Morgan asked, picking up the conversational thread. “What did they see?”

“The kid, Myers … he was sitting on the couch. He was wearing a clown costume … a white one piece jump suit with red pom-poms up the front. There was a mask but he wasn’t wearing it. He’d left it upstairs next to the body. See, he stabbed his sister while he was wearing that mask, all dressed up in his little clown costume. Mr. Myers—Morgan Myers--he got the knife away from the kid after it happened. It was in the sink. Biggest goddamn knife I’d ever seen—the king of all butcher knives. It was too big for the kid’s hand … I don’t know how he handled the damn thing. But he’d used it to stab Judith 11 times in the chest.”

Brackett fell silent and they all walked on for a few moments, unspeaking. Finally Brackett said, “Everyone immediately though the kid was insane, you know? That something in his brain had just snapped and made him butcher his sister. But there’s more to it, you know? I think he was planning it—he MUST have been planning it. He must have waited all evening to make his move. He waited until Judith’s boyfriend Bob left the house. He picked up the mask and the knife and he went up after her almost as soon as the boyfriend was gone. When we talked to Bob and the Myers and compared the time-line … no more than 10 minutes elapsed between the time the boyfriend left and the Myers came home.”

“What did the boyfriend say?” Hotch asked. “What did he notice about Michael’s behavior that night?”

“He said he knew the kid was around but figured he was off playing on his own some place. He’d been home from trick-or-treating for two hours but Bob and Judith hadn’t heard a peep from him. She was supposed to be babysitting her younger sister, too, but Eleanor had been sick with an ear infection and strep throat and her parents left her with family friends who could keep a closer eye on her and give her the medication at the right time.”

“So the sister, Eleanor, is the one Myers is coming after,” Morgan said. “Where is she now?”

Brackett shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. The Myers family moved away years ago. No one knows what happened to them.”

“Our technical analyst was able to track them as far as the witness protection program and after that the trail went cold; they’re notorious for keeping their mouths tightly shut about protectees,” Hotch replied. “The Myers must have been quite afraid of their son if they went to such lengths to keep their identities a secret all these years.”

“God knows I would be,” Brackett said grimly. “I wouldn’t want him after me.”

“Why now?” Morgan mused. “Fifteen years is significant, certainly … a pretty typical anniversary date… but why wait all this time to get to her?”

Brackett thought for a moment then offered, hesitantly, “Well, what if he wanted to make sure she was a teenager like Judith? Maybe that matters to him.”

Hotch offered a rare smile of encouragement. “It may very well be. Loomis might be able to help us with that.”

Brackett snorted. “Look, far be it for me to knock Loomis—he’s worked with Myers and knows what he’s dealing with better than we do. But if you ask me he’s not playing with a full deck either. I’m worried there’s going to be trouble here before the sun comes up tomorrow.”

Morgan and Hotch exchanged looks but neither agreed nor disagreed. The three men continued to the Myers house in silence.

***

The Haddonfield cemetery was little more than a grassy field outside of a small church. There were no fences to keep out the curious. The chatty caretaker was more than happy to walk Rossi, Prentiss, and Loomis along the neatly mown rows of headstones, looking for Judith Myers’ grave.

“Terrible tragedy that one,” the man said, shaking his head. “Real shock. Never would have thought anyone that young capable of such a thing.” He turned his head to talk to the trio as he walked. “The Myers boy was always different though … quiet. Too quiet. Not natural for a boy to be so quiet. Never blinked either. Would stare at you in church with those dark eyes and make you feel like he was looking into your soul.”

Prentiss opened her mouth to respond but was stopped by Sam Loomis snapping, “For god’s sake, man, stop wasting time. Where’s the Myers girl’s grave?”

The unflappable caretaker simply took a look around the cemetery to get his bearings and said, “Nearly there now. Another two rows over. Plot 18 … 19 … 20 …” He stopped then, a look of fury crossing his face, and stomped toward a gravesite missing its headstone. A jagged gash in the ground was the only marker left on the plot. “Why do they do it?! Damn kids! Why do they do things like this?”

“Looks like a Halloween prank,” Prentiss said, peering at the raw dirt. “Do you know whose grave it is?”

“Of course I do! I know every grave in this cemetery!” He peered at the small engraved numbers on the back of the headstones, placed there to help mourners find their way to their loved one’s burial plots. “This is row 15, plot 20, so this is …” He looked up then, his angry face suddenly reflecting fear. “Judith Myers.”


	3. The Evil is Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JJ an Reid interview Marion Chambers about Michael's escape from the Smith's Grove mental hospital.

“I don’t know what else you want me to say,” Marion Chambers said, fingers drumming nervously on the table. “I’ve told the police everything I can about what happened.”

“Let’s just go through it again,” JJ said soothingly. “Now that you’ve had a chance to--” She was about to say “calm down” but since it was clear that the woman was anything but calm, she quickly changed it to, “—reflect on it a little bit more.”

“What the hell is there to reflect on? The guy attacked me and drove off with the car. And how the hell did he drive off, anyway, seeing as how Dr. Loomis told me he doesn’t drive, that he’s never driven in his life because he’s been locked up since he was six-years-old!” Her fingers continued to beat a frenetic tattoo on the table. “Look, I REALLY need to smoke.”

Reid shook his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but there’s no smoking in government buildings. Would you like some gum instead?”

Chambers shook her head, irritated. “Ask me whatever you need to ask, okay? Just hurry up so I can stand outside and chain smoke until my lungs give out.”

JJ exchanged a glance with Reid, 5 seconds in which they mentally debated which of them would be better to question the jangled woman. Finally Reid said, “Ms. Chambers, I want you to take us through last night’s events step by step and then you’re free to go back to your hotel. Can you do that for us?”

Chambers nodded and continued to tap her fingers on the table until Reid very gently laid a hand over hers to stop the noise. “Go ahead and close your eyes for me.” At her incredulous look he replied, “it will help you focus. Now breathe deeply, in through your nose and out through your mouth while you mentally take yourself back to last night. You’re driving in the car with Dr. Loomis. What’s the first thing you notice?”

“It’s raining,” she said. “Hard rain. It’s loud on the roof.”

“Good. What else do you hear? Is the radio on?”

“No. Dr. Loomis is edgy. He didn’t want the music; he said it got on his nerves.”

“Why was he so edgy? Did he say what was bothering him?”

“His patient made him nervous. Michael Myers. I got the feeling that the doctor was scared of him but was trying to hide it.”

“What made you think that?”

“He was very dispassionate, almost cold. He kept referring to Myers as ‘it’ instead of ‘him.’ I made a crack about him not having any compassion. He said there was nothing human in Myers to have compassion for.”

JJ raised an eyebrow and jotted down something on the dry erase board as Reid continued.

“You arrived at the hospital. What was the first thing you noticed?”

“The patients were out on the grounds, just roaming. And the gate was up. Normally you have to check in and out with the guards at the gate but they weren’t there and the patients were out in the rain in their hospital gowns. That’s when I knew something was wrong.”

“That’s great, Marion,” Reid said encouragingly. “What happened next?”

“Dr. Loomis got out to of the car to check on the guards while I waited. I was smoking a cigarette when I felt something hit the hood of the car and someone in white ran across the hood and up the windshield onto the top of the car. He didn’t jump off or anything—he just sat up there. I put down the window to yell at him to get off the car … and that’s when he grabbed me by the hair and tried to pull me right out the window.”

Her breathing was starting to pick up and her fingers tried to drum underneath Reid’s. He kept a hold on her hand and said in a soothing tone, “Marion, relax. Listen to my voice. No one is going to hurt you. You’re safe. Do you hear me?”

She nodded, the fingers of her opposite hand starting to tap on her leg.

“Okay. Keep taking those deep breaths and when you’re calm again, tell me what happened next.”

“He grabbed my hair and tried to pull me out the window but I grabbed the steering wheel to hold on and jerked my head away as hard as I could. When I got free of him I rolled up the window and moved to the middle of the front seat—the cars that we use to transport patients are so damn old they still have front seats that are one long bench with three seat belts.” Her hand twitched nervously under Reid’s. “I could hear him on top of the car … he was heading toward the back of it like he was trying to get in through the trunk. And then he was jumping all over the top of it so I couldn’t tell what he was doing or where he was going … the car was bouncing up and down so hard it felt like there were two or three people up on the roof jostling it.”

“He sounds incredibly strong,” JJ said softly, hoping not to interrupt the woman’s reverie too much.

“He is. When he grabbed my hair I felt like he was going to take half my scalp with it.”

“So he’s jostling the car,” JJ prompted. “What happened next?”

“I backed up against the far window, trying to brace myself against all the movement. My purse had spilled onto the floor on the passenger side and I was trying to grab my phone. Then his hand smashed the glass behind my head and he reached in, pulled the door handle and spilled me out onto the black top. I hit my head when I landed but I wanted to make sure I was away from the car when I sped off—I knew he was going to take the car, I just knew it—so I rolled out of the way and onto the grass by the parking lot.”

“Good, that was good thinking on your part,” JJ said soothingly. “There was no way you could get him out of the car once he was in it. And then what happened?”

“He sped off. He hit the gas and literally burned rubber; there were tire marks on the pavement. Dr. Loomis must have heard the car driving away because he ran after it. I heard him screaming into the rain while I tried to get up.”

“What was he screaming?” Reid asked.

“It’s gone. The evil is gone.”

Marion Chambers opened her eyes, blinked at the burst of light, peered at Reid, who was still holding her hand, and asked shakily, “Can I PLEASE go have a cigarette?”


	4. Signs of Recent Habitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Signs that Michael Myers has reached Haddonfield appear.

When Loomis, Brackett, and the rest of the team walked back into police headquarters, they all looked distinctly unnerved. 

“What happened?” JJ asked, pushing aside the file on Judith Myers. 

“Nothing good,” Rossi said. “Someone’s taken Judith Myers’ headstone.”

Reid looked up from copies of Michael’s records that had arrived via fax from the Smith’s Grove asylum. “Could be a Halloween prank,” he said. “An ill-timed and ill-considered one, but a prank nonetheless.” 

“That’s what we’re hoping for,” Prentiss said, taking a seat. “But we need to strongly consider the possibility that it might not be.”

“What did you guys find?” JJ asked Morgan and Hotch. 

“Broken windows in the Myers house--”

“Another possible Halloween prank,” Reid put in helpfully. 

“And signs of recent habitation,” Hotch added. “VERY recent.”

“How recent are we talking?” Prentiss asked. “What was there?”

Morgan blanched. “A dead dog. Freshly dead. Like, 2-3 hours dead. And partially eaten.” At the look on Prentiss’ face he nodded in agreement, “Yeah, tell me about it. Glad I haven’t had lunch yet.”

Hotch checked the clock. “Okay. He’s been on the move since ten o’clock last night. According to Sheriff Brackett, he switched cars at least once … the state car was found abandoned with Myers’ hospital gown inside and the corpse of a tow truck driver beside it. So now he’s got fresh clothing and a new vehicle.”

“He’s not exactly going to be inconspicuous in a tow truck so if I were him I’d have changed cars again somewhere along the line,” Brackett put in. “I’ll have the state police keep an eye out for abandoned vehicles along the routes between Smith’s Grove and here.”

“He hasn’t wasted any time,” JJ said, “not if he’s been to the cemetery and his old house. But if he’s looking for his younger sister, how’s he going to find her? We can’t even find her and we’ve got Garcia on our side searching every nook and cranny of the Internet.”

Morgan’s phone rang and he grinned. “Speak of the devil.” He picked up the call and said, “Hey baby girl. You’re on speaker so behave.”

“I NEVER behave,” came Garcia’s cheerful voice. “Especially where you’re concerned, Chocolate Thunder.” 

Rossi guffawed at that, while Brackett looked utterly gobsmacked. 

“Garcia,” Morgan said in a tone that managed to be both playful and warning at the same time. “You’re on speaker in front of strangers.”

“Sincerest apologies,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. “Won’t happen again.”

“What have you got for us?” Morgan asked. 

“Well, I continued my digging, trying to unearth something from witness protection to tell me what the Myers changed their names to and where they went and finally found out a couple of things.”

“We’re listening,” Hotch said. 

“Well, the Myers family, once in witness protection, separated themselves entirely from their son. They changed their names—Morgan, Susan, and Eleanor Myers became Jim, Marie, and Laurie Jacobs and they moved from Illinois to South Carolina. And that’s as far as I’ve been able to track them because they took great care not to leave a paper trail, but I’m going to keep looking.”

“Good job, Garcia, keep on it,” Hotch said. “Call us when you have more.”

“I hear and obey,” Garcia said cheerfully. “Over and out.”

“What did you guys find here?” Rossi asked JJ and Reid. 

“Well, we interviewed Ms. Chambers--” Reid started. 

Loomis jerked his head up from his perusal of Myers file at the sound of her name. “Marion? Where is she?”

“She’s smoking in the parking lot,” JJ said. 

“By herself? Surely she’s not--”

“No, sir, a deputy’s with her,” JJ replied calmly. 

“I’d better go out and check on her,” Loomis said, rising. “She’s involved in this now … I don’t want Myers getting his hands on her.” He hurried out the front door. 

“JJ, what did you learn?”

“Well, Myers definitely had a plan for getting out of the asylum … he killed the guards and switched off the electrified fences prior to Loomis’ arrival. When Loomis got out to check on the guards, he attacked Marion in the car, jumping on top of it to distract her, then attempted to haul her out of it by the hair in order to take it.”

“I find it interesting that he didn’t intentionally hurt or kill her,” Reid said. “He simply got her out of the car in the quickest way possible so he could accomplish his goal—taking the car and heading for Haddonfield. He’s mission-oriented but not sadistic.”

“Obviously organized,” Rossi put in. “The planning shows that. And if it is Myers who’s taken his older sister’s headstone, he’ll have some use in mind for it.”

“We don’t know if he has weapons,” Prentiss said. “There was nothing reported missing at the asylum but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t something in the car or tow truck that he could use.”

“If he is coming back to Haddonfield to find and kill Eleanor, then we can assume he’ll mirror it to his first murder,” Hotch said. “He’s going to need a knife from somewhere. Let’s keep an eye out for break-ins or incidents of theft in the next few hours.”

Brackett nodded. “There’s always a fair amount of that because it’s Halloween; hopefully we can process the pranks fairly quickly.”

“We still need to find Eleanor Myers, assuming she’s somewhere in Haddonfield. In the mean time, let’s stay on the streets looking for anything out of the ordinary.” Hotch met his team member’s eyes. “We’ll split the team up. Reid and I will stay here and take reports from Garcia as they come in and continue trying to track down Eleanor Myers. The rest of you will patrol with Haddonfield PD. Check in via text every half hour. Stay safe out there.”


	5. Who's Got the Knives?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A break-in at the hardware store proves that Michael Myers is now armed ... and still dangerous. Plus the BAU comes closer to discovering the new identity of Eleanor Myers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize SO very much for the delay in adding a new chapter. My computer contracted the Cryptolock virus, which corrupted and destroyed all the files on my PC. I hadn't backed up my most recent draft of "Samhain" and it was lost with everything else. I've only just now been able to try to reconstruct what I lost. But here's the next chapter with many thanks for your patience ... and I promise there won't be as long a wait for the next chapter.

Reid and Morgan rode out with Brackett’s deputy, Hicks, who looked distinctly rattled at having FBI agents in the car with him, while Rossi and Prentiss climbed into the squad car with Brackett himself.

 

“How would you folks like to proceed?” Brackett asked, looking as ill at ease as his deputy had.

 

Rossi offered a reassuring smile. “What would you normally be doing this time of day?”

 

“Riding around and checking in with local businesses, looking out for kids who may have skipped school to get in a little extra juvenile delinquency time, answering any calls that come in …”

 

“So you’ll do that and we’ll come along for the ride,” Rossi said. “Just consider us an extra set of eyes and ears.”

 

Brackett nodded, more confidently this time, and shifted the car into drive.

 

They drove slowly up and down the sunny streets, comfortably silent, the chatter of Brackett’s radio the only noise in the car. Prentiss admired the decorations on the lawns—some of Haddonfield’s citizens had really gone all out! There were hay bales, scarecrows, mini-graveyards, piles of pumpkins … the unjaded part of her that adored the magic and mystery of the holiday was doing backflips and crowing. Rossi caught the smile on her face and gave her a gentle nudge.

 

“You look like you want to put on a costume and go knock on some doors.”

 

“I love Halloween,” she confessed. “It’s my favorite holiday. I used to have the best time when I was a kid … I had these ridiculously elaborate costumes. We’re talking hair, make-up, the whole nine yards. I’d walk the blocks around my house for hours on Halloween night, watching my bag get fuller and fuller. I even took an extra pillowcase with me one year so that I could drop one off at home and then start filling up the second one!” She shrugged when Rossi laughed. “What? I was a candy fiend! When I got older my girlfriends and I started mapping out routes weeks beforehand so we could hit the really ritzy houses that had the best candy—full-size candy bars, Rice Krispie treats, candy apples. We were SUCH greedy little pigs! I’d have a sleepover with my three best friends that night and we’d eat ourselves absolutely sick with pizza and candy … and then swear not to touch another bite for weeks afterward.”

 

Rossi grinned. “And how long did that resolution last before you dipped into the candy bag again?”

 

“Oh, an hour. Maybe two. You know teenage girls.”

 

“Teenage girls …” Rossi mused, his eyes taking on a far-off stare. “Teenage girls …”

 

“You sound like a dirty old man,” Prentiss said, raising an eyebrow. “Why are you contemplating teenage girls?”

 

“Sheriff,” Rossi asked, his eyes coming back into focus, “how many students at the local high school?”

 

“Not many. 300 or so, maybe.”

 

“Eleanor Myers would be a teenager by now,” Rossi said slowly. “Right? 16, maybe 17.”

 

“About that,” Brackett said.

 

“So, how many students at the high school fit into that age range?”

 

“Well, that’s my daughter Annie’s age … there’s maybe 80 kids in her class. Like I said, it’s not a big school.”

 

“Okay,” Rossi said, thinking the line of inquiry through. “Now, every kid gets finger-printed in kindergarten, right, and those prints go on file at the police department just in case a kid comes up missing.”

 

“Yeah …” Brackett said slowly, obviously trying to keep up with Rossi.

 

“All right. Let’s get a list of teenage girls who fit those ages—16 and 17—from the school. We’ll run their names against the list of kids who have fingerprints on file and eliminate them one by one. We can get parent permission to print anyone left over. If Eleanor Myers is here in town, even under an assumed name, we can track her down that way.”

 

“Not bad,” Prentiss said, offering Rossi a quick high five as Brackett got on his radio to make the request. “For a dirty old man.”

 

Rossi gave her a smirk that managed to be both mischievous and lecherous. “You have no idea.”

 

She knocked her shoulder against his and returned the smirk as Brackett slowed the car and pulled it over to the side of the street outside of MIKE’S NUTS AND BOLTS, a hardware store with a large broken front display window. The alarm was loudly squawking inside.

 

“Mike! What seems to be the problem?” Brackett called out the window to the flustered looking man in jeans and a neatly pressed flannel shirt.

 

“Hell, Dan, I locked up to head down the street for lunch at Morty’s Diner and damn if I’m not gone 15 minutes before Bill Carroll comes flying in to tell me my alarm’s going off and my window’s broke!”

 

Brackett shot the FBI agents a concerned look and turned off the car. They joined him on the sidewalk as Mike, at a total loss, finally decided the best course of action was to get his cell phone to call the alarm company.

 

“Maybe this is the juvenile delinquency you were talking about,” Rossi said, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Maybe. Although they usually confine themselves to smashing pumpkins and TPing houses.” Brackett looked up and down the nearly deserted sidewalk—it was lunch hour and most everyone was either inside a restaurant or had migrated to the park down the street to eat in the sunshine. “Let’s go have a look.”

 

Rossi and Prentiss followed him inside the hardware store. Half of the enormous plate glass window was smashed to bits … the side that hadn’t crumbled into shards had cracks running through it.

 

“Good thing he has plywood,” Prentiss said, raising her voice over the shriek of the alarm. “Someone REALLY strong went to town on this window.”

 

“Or several teenagers with rocks did,” Brackett noted loudly, bending down to take a closer look at a hefty chunk of concrete that seemed to have done a good bit of the damage. He used his cell phone camera to shoot some photos. “Mike!” he called just as the alarm abruptly stopped. “Anything missing?”

 

“I’ve been walking around and taking a look,” Mike said, walking up with a notepad and pen in hand. “Some of what was in that display window is gone.”

 

“What was there?” Rossi asked.

 

“I had up a Halloween display. Two dummies wearing masks carving pumpkins to showcase those new carbon-steel knives I ordered.” Mike looked particularly upset. “Hell, Dan, I don’t want to think of teenagers running around with those knives! They’re likely to hurt somebody!”

 

Prentiss couldn’t suppress a shudder. “I don’t think it’s teenagers that have those knives,” she murmured to Rossi.

 

Rossi nodded and brought his hand to his hip to check the gun holstered there.


	6. Meet Laurie Strode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JJ and Hotch learn Eleanor Myers new identity.

“I’ve got her!” Garcia bugled happily from JJ’s phone.

 

JJ quickly drew the phone away from her ear and gently corrected, “I can hear you just fine, Garcia. No need to shout.”

 

“Ooh, sorry! I’m so sorry! I’m just so excited, though. That was an EXCELLENT bit of sleuthing on Rossi’s part, I’ve gotta say. I mean I was trying to figure out how to hack into the DOJ’s website or whatever but …”

 

“Whoa, okay, okay,” JJ said quickly. “Hold on. Let me get Hotch and put you on speaker phone. Just try not to yell, okay.”

 

“No yelling, I promise,” Garcia swore. “Just be ready because I’ve got Eleanor Myers real name for you.”

 

“Hotch,” JJ called across the bullpen … considerably more quietly than Garcia would have had she been in the room. Hotch looked up quickly at the sound of her voice and was over to the desk where JJ was working in four quick strides.

 

“News?” he asked in his usual unruffled voice.

 

“Garcia says she’s got Eleanor Myers current identity.” JJ hit the button on her phone. “Okay, Garcia, you’re on speaker.”

 

“Okay. Once you know what you’re looking for it goes pretty quickly,” Garcia confided. “Haddonfield High is a REALLY small school. There are 85 kids in the current junior class of 16-17 year olds. 45% of the junior class are girls, so that narrowed it down pretty good. All but 6 of the girls had fingerprints on file because most of these kids have lived here their entire lives and were fingerprinted when they were in elementary school. Of the six that remained, I could verify 4 of them had prints on file with the police precinct where they used to live. The two that were left over were the odd balls that I needed to do some digging for. One is an exchange student from England, though god knows why you’d leave England to come to Illinois … and the other had no prints on file anywhere. At all. Ever.”

 

“So that’s most likely Eleanor Myers,” JJ said.

 

“You know I’m not happy with ‘most likely,’ my sweet apple dumpling,” Garcia chided.

 

Hotch quirked an amused eyebrow at JJ and the corners of his mouth turned up. JJ grinned. She loved Garcia’s sense of humor … and she loved it even more when it could crack Hotch’s stern façade. She allowed herself to enjoy his half-smile for a few moments before tuning back in to Garcia.

 

“….so it turns out she and her parents were in a car accident in South Carolina. Her parents were killed and she was adopted at a very young age by a local couple, Margaret and Andrew Strode. Now whether or not they know that the little girl they adopted is the youngest sister of a murderer is something you’ll have to ask them. So … you’re looking for Laurie Strode. She and her adopted parents are at 324 Hillcrest Drive.”

 

“Excellent work, Garcia, thanks,” Hotch said. “We’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

 

“Roger that, sir. Over and out.” And Garcia was gone.

 

JJ’s phone rang again almost immediately. “It’s Rossi,” she said to Hotch, checking the screen. “Hey, Rossi, we’ve got a name for you.”

 

“I’ll trade your name for my crime scene,” Rossi responded.

 

JJ hit the speaker button again. “You’re on speaker. Hotch is with me. What’s up?”

 

“Someone broke in at the hardware store, took out the front window with a rock. It could be kids but I think we should be on alert in any case.”

 

“What was taken?” Hotch asked, resting a hand on the desk and leaning in closer.

 

“A couple of Halloween masks and a number of knives.”

 

“That doesn’t sound promising,” JJ said grimly, flipping to photos of the murder weapon in the Judith Myers murder. The knife was enormous, even for an adult. It was nearly impossible to imagine a six-year-old wielding it.

 

“It’s got us on yellow alert, that’s for sure,” Rossi replied. “Any word from Morgan and Reid?”

 

“Everything’s quiet where they’re concerned. They found Dr. Loomis standing guard outside the Myers house and offered to bring him on their rounds—he said no and stayed there.”

 

“Talk about a lone ranger,” Rossi said and JJ could imagine him shaking his head. “All right, you said Garcia had news?”

 

“We’ve got Eleanor Myers new name.”

 

“Excellent! Sheriff,” Rossi called. “We’ve got Eleanor Myers identity. Go ahead, JJ.”

 

“You’re looking for a girl named Laurie Strode on 324 Hillcrest.”

 

Rossi repeated the information to Brackett; JJ heard the sheriff’s voice rise in alarm.

 

“What was that, Dave?” Hotch asked, leaning closer to the phone. “I couldn’t hear him.”

 

“Laurie Strode is his daughter’s best friend,” Rossi said. “They’re supposed to be babysitting together tonight.”


	7. Night fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night falls on Haddonfield ... and Halloween officially begins.

Twilight fell on Haddonfield and with it came the hordes of giggling, excitable children primed for an evening of begging for candy. It was all hands on deck at Haddonfield PD as the BAU team prepared to hit the streets with the sheriff and his deputies.

 

“We don’t have enough people,” the sheriff fretted, making sure all of his deputies had enough ammo. “There’s no way to cover the entire town and man the phones here.”

 

“Can you bring in outside help?” Morgan asked, checking the team’s flashlights. “Maybe from a neighboring precinct?”

 

“They’ve got their own policing to do tonight,” Brackett said. “Halloween out here means a lot of vandalism and pranking. The teens who can’t go trick or treating have to make their own fun and they do … in spades!”

 

“Between us and your guys, sheriff, I’m sure we’ll be able to track down Michael Myers,” JJ said soothingly. “He’s only one man.”

 

“If you listen to Loomis he isn’t even that,” Brackett responded. “And I’m starting to wonder if he isn’t right.”

 

“Giving in to paranoia isn’t going to help,” Hotch said sharply. “JJ’s right. This is one man. We’ve tracked down serial murders with body counts three and four times his. We just need to find him and contain him.”

 

“What about Loomis?” Reid asked. “He’s determined to track Myers on his own.”

 

“If Loomis wants to go it alone, let him go it alone,” Hotch replied. “He’s one more set of eyes and that can only be to our benefit.” He addressed his team. “We go out in pairs, on foot. Morgan and Reid, Rossi and Prentiss, JJ and me. Each pair has a radio … if you see anything suspicious, radio it in. Brackett and his men will be out in their cruisers. Haddonfield’s small enough that they can be wherever you are in a matter of minutes.”

 

“What about Laurie Strode?” Prentiss asked. “Shouldn’t she be in protective custody?”

 

Hotch was obviously displeased with the news he had to deliver on that front. “We spoke to the Strodes. They’re in a difficult situation. They’ve never told Laurie she’s adopted and this certainly isn’t the way they want to break the news to her.”

 

Prentiss raised an eyebrow. “Are they aware of who and what her brother is?”

 

“They are now.”

 

Prentiss’ voice rose a notch. “Do they _care_ that their daughter is in very real danger?”

 

“Of course they care,” Hotch said impatiently, giving her a look that clearly told her to dial it down. “They readily accepted protection when Brackett offered it. Laurie and Brackett’s daughter, Annie, are babysitting across the street from each other. There’s a deputy stationed at each end of the street to keep an eye on them. We don’t want to alarm either girl unnecessarily, especially if we can capture and contain him on his approach.”

 

JJ looked doubtfully at the sheriff. “Do you really think that’s going to be enough? He took down five people today without a fight.”

 

“It’s going to have to be enough for now,” the sheriff said grimly. “You folks are all we’ve got.”

 

“Check your equipment,” Hotch said and his team hurried to obey. “Check in every hour. Let’s go.”

 

***

 

The streets were filled with riotous groups of giggling children, more kids than Prentiss had ever seen before. Her own apartment complex housed few children and she wasn’t likely to get trick-or-treaters. The veritable flood of pint-sized creatures in masks and costumes clutching flashlights and bags of candy put a smile on her face that refused to go away.

 

Rossi grinned at her. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile this much. You’re really digging this.”

 

“I told you … I love Halloween.” She laughed as a set of twins raced by, clutching hands, and pounded up the steps to the house just behind them. “Man, what I wouldn’t give to have lived here as a kid!”

 

Rossi raised an eyebrow. “This is a one Starbucks town, Emily … you’d have gone crazy inside of a week.”

Prentiss laughed. “Okay, maybe. But still… this is idyllic.” She pointed across the street to a yard with an open gate and a sign that spelled HAUNTED YARD in dripping letters. Smoke from a fog machine was rolling out in waves and the mechanical cackle of a witch drifted on the wind. “There’s nothing like this in DC.”

 

“Just don’t get so caught up in Mayberry that you let your guard down,” Rossi reminded her gently.

 

Prentiss nodded briskly and made herself mentally pull back from the scene, scanning the faces of passing adults and the few cars that were rolling down the street, invariably full of a load of costumed children.

 

“Do you think he knows where his sister is?” she asked Rossi.

 

“I don’t see how he could. If he’s been locked away for 15 years, how could be possibly have information on her?”

 

“Maybe someone at the asylum was feeding him info.”

 

“Someone who could find out information even Garcia couldn’t track down on her first search? I hardly think so.” Rossi skirted a pair of tussling children dressed in Ninja Turtle costumes. “Don’t ever tell Hotch I said this but I don’t think Loomis is entirely wrong about Myers.”

 

“What, you don’t think he’s human?” Prentiss fixed him with an incredulous gaze. “Really, Rossi?”

 

“No, it’s not that exactly. I can’t put it into words exactly. But something feels off about this guy.”

 

“You’ve never even seen him,” Prentiss pointed out. “Hell, he could be wearing a mask and milling in this crowd and we wouldn’t know it.”

 

“Yeah but … I don’t know, there’s just something about all of this that feels off-kilter.” Rossi shook his head as if to clear it. “Forget I said anything. Take a right at the next corner.”

 

The light began to fade as they walked and the first groups of trick-or-treaters—the youngest kids—began to disappear from the streets, replaced by older kids walking ahead of their adult escorts or groups of teens and preteens sauntering along on their own. Street lights came on, as did porch lights on most of the houses. Jack o’lanterns lit up in front yards. They passed by several houses with unlit porch lights that had seen bands of troublemakers already … TPed trees and smashed pumpkins.

 

They listened to radio chatter as they walked. Brackett was right … as it grew darker nuisance calls started to pick up. They heard calls about soaped windows downtown, speeding cars and trucks on the side-roads, noise ordnance violations from overzealous Halloween parties, shoplifting at a convenience store. Each hour the members of the BAU radioed in with their current positions, keeping the channel clear for the most part but still checking in to let Brackett (and each other) know that, so far, everything in their assigned grids of Haddonfield was quiet. Morgan and Reid had collared a couple of kids who were intent on egging a block full of houses with the porch lights off. JJ and Hotch broke up a fight outside of a local bar.

 

By 9pm, the trick-or-treaters were off the streets. A few costumed teens still milled around, some on skateboards and scooters, most walking. The porch lights were turned off in most of the houses, though jack-o-lanterns stayed lit, grinning toothily from porch railings and from steps.

 

Rossi and Prentiss turned onto Lampkin Lane where Laurie Strode and Annie Brackett were babysitting. The first sign that something was amiss was the missing police cruiser at the start of the street. Rossi immediately got on the radio.

 

“Brackett, it’s Rossi. You’re missing uniforms at the top of Lampkin Lane.”

 

“Sorry, Rossi, I had to pull my guys for a serious accident out on the county road. There should still be a unit at the end of the block. Are they still there?”

 

A dark form climbed out of the cruiser far down at the end of the lane and waved its arms at Rossi and Prentiss.

 

“They’re here,” Rossi acknowledged. “Prentiss and I’ll walk this street for a while, make sure everything’s okay.”

 

“10-4, Rossi. Hotchner, did you copy?”

 

“I copied,” came Hotch’s voice. “JJ and I are still down town … there are some rather contentious drunks out here tonight.”

 

“Happy Halloween,” was Brackett’s dry reply. “Where’s your third team?”

 

“Wrangling with some punks down here by the high school,” came Morgan’s voice. “If you’ve got a unit, sheriff, I think these gentleman need a lesson in how NOT to deface public property.”

 

Brackett swore. “Rossi, Prentiss, can you patrol on Lampkin until one of my guys gets back? I’m going to need that unit to respond to the high school.”

 

“We’ve got it,” Rossi responded.

 

The lights from the cruiser at the end of the street came on and was out onto the adjoining street in moments, leaving Rossi and Prentiss alone on Lampkin Lane.


	8. The Boogeyman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Halloween night and Rossi and Prentiss are alone on Lampkin Lane ...

Lampkin Lane was reasonably well-lit, but the street lights could only do so much to keep the darkness at bay with the vast majority of porch lights extinguished for the night. Shadows pooled deep and black around quiet houses. Candles inside pumpkins began to gutter, then smoke, then go out entirely as their wicks burned down.

 

“Okay,” Prentiss said, peering up and down the street. “It’s _really_ dark out here.”

 

Rossi held his flashlight up under his face, casting his features into demonic angles and shadows.

 

“Afraid of the boogeyman, Emily?”

 

Prentiss shoved him. “NO. It’s just dark … REALLY dark … and we’re looking for a knife-wielding killer. I think I have a right to be on edge.” She shone her flashlight carefully around the yard nearest them. “Besides …” she said quietly. “There’s no such thing as the boogeyman.”

 

The fell into step together, Rossi shining his light into the yards on the right side of the street, Prentiss into those on the left. Aside from the rustle of leaves and the occasional whine of a dog, it was silent.

 

“Still wish you were home watching horror movies?” Rossi asked.

 

“More than ever,” Prentiss replied, pulling her jacket closer around her.

 

“Oh, c’mon, you can’t tell me you aren’t enjoying this. I saw the way you were smiling earlier.”

 

“That was earlier … when there were kids … and candy … and porch lights … and more people on the street.”

 

“Is hot-shot, lock-and-load, hell-bent-for-leather Emily Prentiss afraid of the dark?” Rossi teased. “You keep saying no but I think the answer is yes.”

 

“If I admitted to it would you stop teasing me about it?” she snapped. “I’m just … on edge.”

 

“Clearly.” Rossi sobered. “What’s making you nervous? Talk it out with me.”

 

“Okay. Michael Myers. He’s intelligent—even at six he was smart enough to wait till Judith’s boyfriend had gone home of the evening before he killed her. He taught himself how to drive a car without having ever had a lesson! He’s mission-oriented; each kill has a purpose—to get out of the asylum, to obtain cars of varying types, to obtain clothing and other necessities. He broke in at the hardware store for knives and masks and he did it JUST for those items—nothing else was stolen. He’s patient—he’s waited 15 years for this one night to come around so he could kill his sister.”

 

“I’m with you,” Rossi said.

 

“WHY?” Prentiss asked. “Why all of it? What the hell is his motive? What kind of six-year-old hacks his sister to death with a kitchen knife so big most adults would be uncomfortable handling it? We all know the most common motives for murder—anger, greed, lust. What the hell’s his? Why come after a sister he’s never met?”

 

“Loomis didn’t seem to have any insight on that either,” Rossi put in. “His only answer—that Myers isn’t human—leads me to believe he needs more than a little psychological help himself.”

 

“If we don’t know what’s motivating him, we have no psychological underpinning for this murder spree,” Prentiss said. “THAT’S what’s making me nervous. I can’t profile what I can’t understand.”

 

“We have to go with what we know,” Rossi said. “We know Michael Myers wants to kill his younger sister on Halloween. Right now it doesn’t matter why. What matters is that it’s Halloween for another two and a half hours. Laurie is on this street, babysitting with her friend Annie, and we’re protecting her the best way we can within the confines that have been laid out for us by the Strodes and the sheriff. That’s all we can do. The ‘why’ of it doesn’t matter right now.”

 

“It matters to me.”

 

“Because you don’t like puzzles you can’t solve.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Not all puzzles are meant to be solved. Some are just meant to be.”

 

“Jesus, Rossi, I hate it when you do that! Are you TRYING to sound like Yoda?”

 

“Try, you say? Do or do not do, there is no--” Rossi stopped clowning around when he saw her face. “What’s wrong?” He laid a hand on her arm. “Emily, what is it?”

 

“I thought--” Prentiss peered back down the street into the darkness. “I thought there was--” She wavered, then turned back around. “Okay, you’re right. I’m afraid of the goddam dark.”

 

“No, wait.” Rossi’s fingers closed around her forearm. “I saw something too.”

 

“Don’t fuck with me, Dave,” she warned.

 

“I’m not,” he said, his voice so quiet and deadly earnest that her whole body tensed. “What did you think you saw?”

 

“A face. A very pale face. White.” She glanced sideways at home. “You?”

 

“Something white. Too quick to catch. It went around the corner of that house.” He motioned toward a house across the street and several doors down; it had a trio of jack-o-lanterns leering from the front porch and the dull glow of a TV flickering behind curtains. “Let’s go take a look.”

 

“Oh yeah, that’s a great idea.”

 

Rossi raised his eyebrow, very amused. “You have a GUN, Emily.”

 

“And for all you know it does absolutely nothing against the boogey-man,” she muttered. “Let’s go.”


	9. You Can't Kill The Boogeyman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prentiss and Laurie have a final showdown with Michael Myers

As they crossed the street, a shrill scream cut the air. They simultaneously swung their flashlights in the direction of the sound. A leggy teenager in dark wash jeans and a long-sleeved blue shirt came hurtling out of the darkness, limping badly.

 

“Oh god, help me!” she shrieked, rushing up to them and nearly collapsing against Rossi. “Please! Help me! My friends!”

 

Rossi caught her by the shoulders. “Calm down. What happened to your friends?”

 

“They’re dead! Oh god, oh god, they’re dead! Back there in the house!” She pointed a trembling finger over her shoulder. “He killed them!”

 

Rossi and Prentiss exchanged a quick look, trying to determine in a few seconds whether or not this was an elaborate Halloween prank. The terror on the girl’s face was real and visceral.

 

“Who killed your friends?” Prentiss asked, hardly able to believe she was asking such a question so matter-of-factly. She swept her gaze from side to side, taking in the broad expanse of dark lawn around them.

 

“A man in a mask. He has a knife.” She glanced wildly back over her shoulder. “He tried to grab me but I ran. Oh god, what if he’s after me?”

 

“Then we’ll take care of him,” Rossi promised, drawing his gun smoothly from its holster. He pointed across the street. “Is that your house? Where are your parents?”

 

“No, it’s my friend’s house. She was babysitting. She left the kids with me.” She shot a panicked glance over Rossi’s shoulder. “Oh god, I left the kids! What if they wake up?” Her voice rose an octave. “What if he goes after them?”

 

“Okay, Laurie,” Rossi said in his very calm, very mellow, ‘don’t panic’ voice. “It IS Laurie, isn’t it? Or is it Annie?”

 

“Yes, I …” She paused, uncertainty flickering over her face. “It’s Laurie. How did you know?”

 

“We’re friends of Sheriff Brackett’s,” Prentiss said quickly. “Laurie, listen carefully. You and I are going to go check on the kids while Agent Rossi finds out what happened to your friends.”

 

“They’re DEAD,” Laurie repeated wildly. “Annie and Bob and Linda are all dead.”

 

“And I’m going to get them some help,” Rossi said, matter-of-factly. “You’re going to go with Agent Prentiss and she’s going to keep you safe while I check the house for the killer.”

 

“What if he kills you too?” Laurie’s eyes were wide and panicked.

 

“He’s not,” Rossi assured her. “I have a gun. And I’m going to call for help as soon as you go with Agent Prentiss.”

 

“But what if he--”

 

“Emily, get her inside,” Rossi said, checking his gun. He unclipped the radio from his belt and passed it to her. “Radio Brackett, okay?”

 

“Yeah.” Prentiss pulled her own gun, checked the safety, and did a quick visual sweep of the area. She passed the flashlight to Laurie, who took it in shaking hands. “Secure the scene but wait for backup before you go hunting for him, okay?” When no agreement from Rossi was forthcoming, she fixed him with a very hard stare. “Rossi, promise me.”

 

“Go,” he instructed, sweeping his flashlight toward her and Laurie to offer additional light on their way. “Lock the house down as soon as you get inside.”

 

Prentiss ushered Laurie ahead of her and took off across the sidewalk and lawn at a fast clip. The girl’s limp was more pronounced now—Prentiss made a note to either check her for injuries herself or make sure a paramedic did it first thing.

 

She scanned the yards on both sides of her as they moved, senses on high alert, listening for footsteps in the leaves or the sound of breathing muffled by a mask. Her heart was thudding so hard she wasn’t sure she could hear anything above it … in spite of all of her years of training, the adrenaline that shot through her system before an imminent confrontation always made her edgier than she’d have liked to be.

 

They reached the porch, where a jack-o-lantern was still burning. Laurie dug the keys from her pocket and slid them into the lock on the door, though she fumbled with them so badly that Prentiss eventually had to reach over to steady her hand.

 

Once inside, Laurie shut and locked the door, then slipped the deadbolt on—quietly, Prentiss noticed, so as not to wake her sleeping charges. She limped around the room, turning off the glare of the muted television, checking behind chairs and inside the entryway closet. Prentiss moved rapidly through the remainder of the downstairs rooms, clearing each.

 

“Is he going to be okay?” Laurie asked anxiously when Prentiss joined her in the front room.

 

“Rossi? He’s very good at landing on his feet.” She reached for the radio. “Prentiss to Brackett.”

 

When she received no answer, she tried again. “Hotch, this is Prentiss.”

 

“What’s wrong, why aren’t they answering?” Laurie asked, her voice rising with panic.

 

“Everything’s fine,” she assured the teen. “There’s a lot going on tonight, the sheriff has his hands full.” She dug in her pocket for her phone and realized, much to her dismay, that it was no longer in her pocket … it was either somewhere on Haddonfield’s sidewalks or on the lawn between the street and the house. “We’re going to wait here till Rossi clears the scene and we’ve got back-up on the way.”

She lifted the radio to her lips again. “Prentiss to anyone from the BAU, do you copy?”

 

The radio spat back crackling static and she cursed … they must be in another one of the infuriating dead air zones around Haddonfield that blocked radio service and cell reception. How goddamn predictable, she thought sourly.

 

Even though she couldn’t hear them, she was fairly sure they’d be able to hear her, so she spoke clearly into the radio. “Prentiss to anyone at Haddonfield PD. Requesting back-up to 709 Lampkin Lane. Three DB’s, one injury. Suspect is on the move.” She repeated it again, then one more time for good measure before clipping the radio back to her belt. “Why don’t you go check on the kids?” she said to Laurie. “I’m going to …”  


“Don’t go outside,” Laurie begged her. “Please.”

 

“I’m not,” she soothed. “I’m going to make sure all the windows are locked from the inside. While you’re upstairs, check on the ones in the bedrooms, okay?” When the girl hesitated she gave her an understanding smile and said, “Or I can come with you. Let’s just check the ones down here first.”

 

At Laurie’s hesitant nod, they went back through every room, checking the locks on each window.

 

“How did you hurt yourself?” Prentiss asked, discreetly checking her pockets for her cell phone again.

 

“I fell down the stairs,” Laurie replied. “Across the street, when I was checking on Linda.”

 

“What made you think you needed to check on her?”

 

“I’d gotten a weird phone call from her and I thought she might be in trouble. When I got upstairs Annie was …” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “Annie was on the bed … there was a headstone resting behind her, leaning on the headboard. And when I turned around L—Linda and Bob … they were in the closet. I ran out into the hallway and I heard this … breathing.”

 

“What kind of breathing?” Prentiss asked, thoroughly checking the entryway closet again.

 

“Hoarse. Ragged. Asthmatic, kind of. And when I turned around he was behind me, the man with the knife. He swung at me and I fell backward down the stairs. I ran out of the house and that’s when I found you and Agent Rossi.” She drew the blinds on the back door and turned to meet Prentiss’ gaze head-on. “How did you know my name? You said you’re friends with Sheriff Brackett but I’ve never seen you before. Annie knows all of her dad’s friends.”

 

“Rossi and I are in town with my team tracking down an escaped killer.”

 

“Were you guys supposed to be watching us or something?”

 

“Not us specifically. The sheriff said Annie was babysitting with friends and he wanted her to be safe, so he assigned some deputies to patrol the street. They got called away for a car accident on the county road and we happened to be right here.” That was the closest Prentiss was going to come to telling Laurie Strode the truth about her relationship to the man who had just butchered her three closest friends. “Let’s go check on the kids, okay? What are their names?”

 

“Tommy Doyle and Lindsay Wallace. Annie was babysitting for Lindsay but her boyfriend came over so she brought Lindsay here instead.”

 

“Uh huh.” Despite the grim situation, Prentiss had to smile. She knew the drill all too well. “Annie and Linda wanted to mess around with their boyfriends and wanted you to watch the kids.”

 

Laurie shrugged. “They’re jerks sometimes but they’re my best friends.”

 

She was still talking about them as if they were alive, Prentiss noted.

 

“C’mon,” Prentiss said, motioning toward the stairs. “If you know where the first aid kit is, I can wrap your knee.”

 

She moved cautiously up the steps, gun out. She planned to clear every upstairs bedroom, just in case Myers had managed to make his way into the house in spite of the locked doors. She checked the hallway in both directions, then cleared the master bedroom and the guest bathroom.

 

Laurie made her way down the hall to Tommy’s bedroom, where the two kids were sleeping soundly, Tommy on his bed, Lindsay on an air mattress on the floor. She crept to the closet and checked inside. Her shoulders relaxed as she slowly came to the realization that no one was there.

 

“They’re fine,” she whispered to Prentiss, pulling the door shut behind her.

 

“Why don’t you find me the first aid kit?”

 

While Laurie rummaged in the bathroom cabinet, Prentiss quickly cleared the remainder of the upstairs bedrooms, breathing a little easier when it became apparent they were alone. In the master bedroom, she checked the radio again … still dead air and static … and searched one more time for her phone. She looked out the window toward the house across the street. There was light in the windows now and shadows. Was it Rossi securing the scene?

 

Was it Michael Myers?

 

She searched up and down the street—vainly-- for a cruiser. There wasn’t one. No one was coming to help them. Her radio broadcast hadn’t gone through.

 

Her heart pounded harder in her chest and her stomach knotted fiercely. Her team was out of reach. There was no way to know if Rossi was all right. Michael Myers was somewhere outside, waiting for Laurie.

 

Down on the lawn, among the shadows, something moved. Oh god. Her mind raced. Was there any ingress point they’d forgotten? A garage? A kitchen window? Anything?

 

Laurie limped into the bedroom with an ace bandage but stopped cold when she saw Prentiss’s rigid shoulders.

 

“What is it?” she whispered, creeping up behind Prentiss and peering through the curtains.

 

The shadow on the lawn moved, stepped into the pale moonlight, solidified into the hulking form of Michael Myers.

 

He’s tall, much taller than her. His shoulders are wide, causing the mechanic’s jumpsuit to strain at the top. A fish-belly white mask with a shock of brown hair adorned his head and face. A butcher knife, absolutely enormous, gleamed in his hand.

 

Laurie drew in a gasping breath and clutched at Prentiss’s arm. “That’s him! That’s the man! What do we do?”

 

“Lock the kids in the bedroom,” Prentiss replied under her breath.

 

She was pleased that the girl didn’t question or argue … she simply did as she was told and came back quickly.

 

“You’ve been in this house before … where’s the best place to hide?”

 

Laurie searched her memory. “Oh god … what about the closet?”

 

Prentiss shook her head. “It’s a dead end. There’s no way out of a closet except the way you came in. Is there an attic?”

 

“Just a crawl space in the ceiling.”

 

“I want you up there,” Prentiss said grimly, hurrying out into the hallway.

 

“What about you?” Laurie looked panicked. “He’ll kill you!”

 

“I’ve got a gun … he doesn’t and neither do you. I’ll be fine. Come on.” She pulled the door to the attic down and urged Laurie up the steps. “No movement. No sounds. I’ll take care of him.”

 

“But …”

 

“Do as I say!” Prentiss commanded. She shut the door behind the teen and held the pull rope for a moment to keep it from swinging, an indicator to anyone paying attention that it had been recently opened. She pulled her gun and crept to the head of the steps.

 

There was a rattling from the back door, soft at first, then louder. The noise increased as the door was rattled, then hit, then forcibly kicked. The back door banged open and footsteps sounded in the kitchen. Doors opened, closed.

 

Time to make her move. She slunk silently down the steps, gun at the ready.

 

Get the knife away from him, she told herself. Take him down if he doesn’t surrender.

 

His footsteps sounded in the kitchen. Louder. In the hallway.

 

“STOP,” Prentiss commanded, stepping out in front of him.

 

God, he was tall. Physically imposing in a way that she hadn’t expected. The mask is terrifying … possibly the most terrifying part of the entire costume. And the eyes behind the mask … the eyes were deep, black, empty, and, as Loomis had written in a report, utterly soulless.

 

Shark’s eyes. Doll’s eyes. The devil’s eyes.

 

“Put down your weapon,” she commanded, her voice strong and sure. He stared at her blankly, unmoving.

 

“I SAID, put down your weapon,” she repeated.

 

She wanted to step away, wanted to put more space between herself and him; those eyes were terrifying her, chilling her blood. She had to suppress a shudder as she looked into them.

 

He stared at her again, then raised the knife and stepped toward her.

 

Her finger moved on the trigger and she fired off a round, striking him in the shoulder.

 

He didn’t flinch. Instead he kept coming.

 

Another round. Still coming.

 

What the hell? Was he wearing Kevlar?

 

She heard a scream from upstairs—Tommy and Lindsay, no doubt—but couldn’t heed it. Why wasn’t the bastard going down?

 

One more round, this one in the arm, but no, he was still on his feet.

 

It was time for her to move. She made a break for the front door before grimly calculating that she wouldn’t have enough time to get the door open before he was on her. So she made the only move she could, the one that got stupid Hollywood characters killed all the time, and ran up the stairs.

 

Laurie was waiting for her at the top. The rope to the attic door was swinging and she knew instantly what had happened … Laurie had given the kids her hiding place.

 

“Laurie, go, goddamit, go!” Prentiss yelled, turning at the top of the stairs to fire down at Myers again. Another round in the chest.

 

She couldn’t afford to waste any more bullets, not that they were doing her any good, so she grabbed a heavy statue from the end table between the bathroom and master bedroom and flung it at him, knocking him back a few steps. It gave her time enough to fly into the master bedroom, slam the door shut behind her, and barricade the door with the nearby chest of drawers.

 

The doors leading onto the balcony are open. Had Laurie jumped?

 

No, she was waving frantically to Prentiss from the closet. Although the balcony might be a better option, it was also too high a drop for either of them to land safely.

 

She jammed herself into the closet with Laurie. It was an older style closet with accordion doors and wooden slats. Easy to batter down. Maybe they should break for the balcony after all.

 

Too late. The thud of the chest of drawers falling over as Myers forced open the door clearly communicated they were out of time.

 

The open balcony doors didn’t fool him for a moment. He came directly to the closet and began fumbling with the knobs, which Laurie had tied closed with a hair band.

 

Dammit. She had nothing but her gun, which wasn’t doing a damn bit of good. How the HELL was he still standing after four shots to the upper body?

 

Laurie was fumbling for a hanger, an old-style wire hanger, and quickly unfolding it so that the sharp ends were exposed. She quickly began doing the same as pieces of the door began splintering and breaking. Both women drew further back into the closet, pressing back against the clothes, tiny, flimsy hangers at the ready.

 

Whimpers of fear issued from Laurie’s throat. Prentiss met her gaze and said, “Go for his eyes and his throat.”

The top of the door splintered into pieces and an arm came through, the butcher knife swinging. There was a whoosh of displaced air with every swipe. Laurie cried out, horrified, as the knife came within inches of her face.

 

They could hear Myers’ ragged breathing as he kept swiping for them, unable to get his arm any further into the closet. Laurie ducked low under the arc of the knife and jabbed upward, catching him in the throat. Prentiss took her own jab; her hanger caught him in the eye.

 

He dropped the knife and Laurie snatched it up. Despite the hanger wounds, he was still grabbing wildly for them. She stabbed blindly out and, luckily, caught him in the middle of the chest. He fell, finally, and lay still.

 

Laurie and Prentiss stared at each other, wide eyed.

 

“Is he--”

 

“I don’t know.” Prentiss nudged open the door and stepped around Myers’ fallen body, giving it a wide berth. Laurie followed behind her, still holding the knife.

 

“I couldn’t have killed him,” Laurie said, trembling. “You shot him and it didn’t do anything to him.”

 

“I don’t know--” Prentiss found herself at a loss for words. “Let’s … we need to call the sheriff.” She moved swiftly to the attic door and pulled it down. “Tommy? Lindsay?”

 

The two children crept slowly down the stairs and practically fell into Laurie’s arms.

 

“Tommy, go down the street to the Mackenzie’s. Tell them to call the police; we need someone over here right now, okay?” Laurie said firmly.

 

“But the boogeyman’s out there!” Tommy said fearfully.

 

“No, he’s not. We killed him.”

 

“You can’t kill the boogeyman,” Tommy said stubbornly.

 

“Maybe I can’t … but she can,” Laurie said just as stubbornly, pointing to Prentiss. “Go to the Mackenzie’s now. Tell them we need the police. Tell them Agent Prentiss and Rossi are here and they need help. Can you do that?”

 

“Yeah,” Lindsay said, her eyes wide. “We can do that. Come on, Tommy.”

 

The two kids raced down the stairs and out into the street, screaming as they ran.

 

“Someone should be here soon, right?” Laurie asked, slumping against the wall. She looked more haggard and terrified than any 16 year old ought to look.

 

“God, I hope so,” Prentiss replied.

 

She walked back into the master bedroom, pulling her gun from her belt again, and froze when the noted the body … or the LACK of body on the floor.

 

Within a fraction of a second, more quickly than she has time to process, she found herself seized by the neck by a still-very-much-alive Michael Myers.

 

Laurie screamed.

 

Prentiss jammed an elbow backward into Myers’ stomach--but it was like granite and didn’t give an inch. She struggled, kicked, fought as hard as she could against the iron grip that was making her world turn grey at the edges. Goddamn, he was strong!

 

She scratched at his hands, digging her nails in, fighting for the air she needed. Her peripheral vision was starting to blacken; she was about to pass out.

 

Laurie screamed again and flung herself at Myers, the knife in her hand plunging into his arm once, twice, a third time.

 

Myers dropped Prentiss in a heap and turned his attention to his real prey—the sister he so desperately wanted to kill. He made a desperate grab for her, grappling with her, managing to get the knife out of her hands.

 

“Laurie, no!” Prentiss choked out, the words a squeak in her abused throat. She groped for her fallen gun, for anything to throw at him.

 

The knife sliced into Laurie’s upper arm. A scream tore from the girl’s throat. She continued grappling with him, though, tearing at his face, pulling off the mask.

 

Under the mask was Michael Myers face. It was a singularly ordinary face. High cheeked. Full lipped. Hair that had turned from a childhood straw-blonde to a dark brown. The only thing peculiar were his eyes.

 

Doll’s eyes. Shark’s eyes. The devil’s eyes.

 

He shoved Laurie away from him. The newel post at the top of the stairs caught her in the back and knocked her onto the carpet where she lay winded.

 

Michael Myers stared at his sister who looked, if you took the time to notice, very much like him.

 

He yanked the mask down again.

 

He picked up the knife.

 

Footsteps pounded on the stairs.

 

CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.

Gunshots. A dozen at least. A full magazine emptied into Michael Myers body and drove him back out the balcony door and over the ledge where he landed with a sickening thud in the yard below.


	10. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael Myers is dead, shot by Rossi and Loomis ... or ... maybe he's not ...

**CHAPTER 10--Aftermath**

 

A figure in a trench coat rushed past and out the balcony door, gun drawn. Another dropped down to kneel at Prentiss’ side.

 

“Emily! Jesus, are you okay?”

 

Rossi. Thank god. She tried to speak but began coughing instead, her throat so sore she couldn’t get a word out through what felt like permanently mangled vocal chords.

 

“No, don’t talk,” Rossi urged, his hand on her back. “Don’t talk, Emily. Just breathe.”

 

Heedless to instruction, she tried to speak, to say Laurie’s name, but doubled over coughing again.

 

Rossi rubbed her back. “Seriously, don’t talk.” He helped her shift position until she was leaning back against the wall. “Can you breathe okay? He had you by the neck!”

 

Whether she could talk or breathe or not was the last thing on her mind. Prentiss pointed insistently out the balcony doors and mimed someone falling.

 

“Loomis got him,” Rossi said grimly. “He caught up with me right after I sent you two over here.”

 

Prentiss shook her head wildly—how the hell was she supposed to communicate if she couldn’t talk? She mimed texting on a cell phone and gesticulated until Rossi handed her his. She opened up a blank text message and typed, with shaking fingers, “Bullets don’t affect him.”

 

Rossi stared incredulously at the message. “Emily--”

 

“Ask Laurie,” she typed, leaning forward to look for the teen. She was sitting back against the wall, wide-eyed, shocked. “Rossi, bring her over here, please.”

 

Rossi was, of all of them, the member of the team best able to soothe rattled victims. He crossed the hall and knelt beside Laurie, speaking softly to her, saying something that actually made her smile. He extended his hand, helped her to her feet, and walked her to where Prentiss was leaning against the wall.

 

“Are you okay?” Laurie whispered, clutching her bleeding arm. Rossi, noticing this, opened his mouth to call for a medic but stopped when Prentiss lay a hand on his arm and shook her head vehemently.

 

“Five minutes,” Rossi said sternly. He rocked back on his heels and regarded both Prentiss and Laurie with a raised eyebrow. “Now tell me what happened.”

 

Laurie haltingly told the story, adding details that Prentiss typed on the cell phone. She wiped tears away a time or two but on the whole was so damn brave that Prentiss found herself wondering if she could possibly have a future in law enforcement. It was possible. She was smart, tough, brave as hell …

 

...And had a serial killer for a brother. Nothing like mixing business and personal lives.

 

Loomis came back in from the balcony as Laurie was finishing up her story.

 

“We’ll get the coroner’s office over here to pick up the body as soon as we can,” Rossi said. He touched Emily’s bruised throat with gentle fingers. “We need to get these ladies to a hospital.”

 

“There’s no need,” Loomis said softly.

 

“Of course there is," Rossi flared. "Emily's got bruises on her throat and Laurie's got a stab wound…”

 

“No, there’s no need for the coroner,” Loomis said. “It’s gone.”

 

“WHAT?” Rossi demanded incredulously.

 

“Michael is gone.”

 

“What the hell are you talking about? We got a dozen rounds into him, plus the four from Emily, a stab wound to the chest, one to the throat, and one to the eye. They guy should be bleeding like a stuck pig.”

 

“See for yourself.” Loomis gestured toward the open balcony doors.

 

Rossi rose. Knowing Emily would insist on coming out to see, he helped her to her feet and wrapped an arm around her waist to support her. Laurie came too, holding tightly her arm, still limping on her twisted knee. Loomis watched her, coolly appraising, wondering perhaps what the sister of Michael Myers was capable of.

 

There was no body on the ground below, just an indentation to mark the place where he’d fallen.

 

“That's impossible," Rossi muttered.

 

Prentiss was about to echo the sentiment but her throat hurt so badly there was no point in expressing her dismay. She did lean harder against Rossi, though, and shuddered as a cold breeze blew by.

 

It was Laurie who expressed it best when she looked at Loomis and said, fearfully, “It really was the boogeyman.”

 

Loomis raised an eyebrow and nodded. “As a matter of fact, it was.”

 

***

The rest of the team arrived as Prentiss and Laurie were being loaded into ambulances.

 

“Oh my god, Em!” JJ burst out when she saw the fingermarks around her friend’s throat. “Are you okay?”

 

“She can’t talk for a while, which might be a blessing to all of us,” Rossi teased, though no one missed the way his fingers closed around hers as he stepped up into the back of the ambulance. His half-smile slipped off his face as he addressed Hotch. “I’m going with her.”

 

“Of course,” Hotch replied. “We’ll be right behind you.”

 

“Actually I think you guys need to keep backing up Haddonfield PD.”

“Why?” Morgan asked. “You got Myers. We heard you shot him a full dozen times. Nice shooting, by the way.”

 

“He’s not dead,” Rossi said flatly.

 

“I’m sorry,” Reid said, furrowing his eyebrows. “It sounded like you said he’s not dead.”

 

“He’s not. There wasn’t a body.”

 

“He fell off a two-story balcony,” JJ insisted. “Of course there’s a body.”

 

“Then why isn’t there a coroner’s van?” Rossi shrugged. “Guys, I looked in the backyard. Emily did too. So did Loomis and Laurie. Michael Myers IS NOT THERE.”

 

“What are you saying?” Morgan asked. “That this guy’s wearing Kevlar or something?”

 

“I’m leaning more toward the side of ‘or something,’” Rossi replied. “Look, I think you guys should listen to Loomis. He might not be as out there as you think he is.”

 

“He thinks Michael Myers isn’t human,” Hotch reminded him.

 

Prentiss tugged on Rossi’s hand and mouthed a phrase at him. He looked grim as he turned back around to the team.

 

“What did she say?” Reid asked.

 

“She said, ‘he’s not,’” Rossi replied.

 

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys SO MUCH for hanging in there to the end with me. It took almost a full year to finish this and I'm sorry for the wait ... but I think it was worth it and hope you do too. 
> 
> Is this the end of the BAU's time in Haddonfield ... or do they tackle Michael Myers when he returns in "Halloween 2"? Comment and let me know! 
> 
> Thanks for reading.


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